


由貴

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Chubby Reader, Crying, Cunnilingus, DFAB reader, Emotional Sex, F/M, First Time, Hook-Up, Inked!Iwaizumi, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Smoking, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, spoiler alert reader is going to cry during sex, there's a lot of venting and emotional jumble worked in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: 由貴 - YukiMeaning "snow," with the characters used for "reason" and "value."Snow can serve as a bunch of different implications, depending on who you ask—cold weather, childhood memories, cozy sweaters.It can also serve as the fake name you give to a stranger for when you want to spend one night with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to anyone who's actually named Yuki.
> 
> Thank you once again to [Mari (QuillMind)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quillmind) for beta reading and for the Japanese lesson. 
> 
> More feelings and sadness coming your way...yay?

The protocol, at least what you think it is, is get in, get out, say thanks. Except if it's bad. No, you'll probably still say thank you. It's polite. Are people polite in these kinds of things? They should be.

After all, you're basically offering each other for free. It's better than paying a lot of money for people who do this for a living, since you’ve only got about a few hundred yen in your wallet.

You knock on the door of a seemingly normal apartment. There’s nothing out of the ordinary around. It's a convenient walk from campus, across the street from a mini mart, which is always a plus for students living off-campus so they don't have to spend money on overpriced snacks. Assuming the person you're meeting up with is a college student. He should be, right?

All the good morals in you are saying that you shouldn't do this. You should just wait like everyone else, like what your mom told you when you were a kid.  _ When it happens, it happens. Don't go looking for it. _

The thing is, you're not exactly on the lookout for love right now. The “it” you're chasing has been chewing your brain and your self-esteem, for whatever reason. You should feel better after all of this is done. That's what it's for, right? Stress relief?

The man who answers the door is surprisingly handsome. You can forget that he's got a cigarette hanging from his mouth and probably tens of thousands of yen’s worth of tattoos going down both his arms. His really muscular, really attractive arms. Were you ever an arm person? How are tattoos  _ this _ hot? You can wrestle that out later.

“Are you Iwaizumi?” you ask.

He turns around to look at his door, where his last name is scribbled on a card in a holder beneath the peep hole. “Seems like it. Yeah.”

Unfortunately, the humor (is it humor?) he tries on you doesn't quite work in this situation. You've never seen this guy before, just saw his posting about what you're looking for (is it what you're looking for?) on some app where you can anonymously send out posts. You only asked for his name when you messaged him privately, and you two didn't exchange photos at the time. In retrospect, maybe you should have done so. Maybe you shouldn't have, in case he turns you down immediately.

But who would want to turn down a free fuck?

Iwaizumi looks you up and down, like somehow your messages to each other gave some description of who you are. You said nothing of the sort. “Are you Yuki?”

You swallow hard and nod. It’s weird not telling him your real name, but really, this isn’t the weirdest part of tonight, and you’ve barely set foot inside his apartment.

Iwaizumi steps out of the doorway to invite you inside. “Come on in. Bedroom’s on the right.”

Getting right down to business, as you were expecting. You step inside and take off your shoes, following his direction and heading into the bedroom. The apartment is pretty small, and in the two-second glimpse you got from it, you can conclude that he is indeed a student. The mess of open textbooks and notes and a laptop on the table in his living space. The takeout cartons sitting on the counter in the kitchen. That Godzilla figurine at his desk in the corner of the living space is kind of cute.

But cute isn't what you're aiming for right now. You hear the front door shut behind you while you make your way to the bed, a full-size mattress that takes up a fair share of the room itself. Without prompting, you take a seat on the edge of the bed, fingers in your lap and trying to ignore how sweaty your palms are becoming with each little fidget.

Iwaizumi walks into the bedroom shortly after you take a seat. He moves to put out his cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. There, you also spot his phone, an alarm clock, and some condoms. You swallow hard again.

“Comfortable?” he asks you.

_ Not really.  _ You nod anyway. 

He takes a seat next to you, keeping about a centimeter and a half of space between you two so you can smell the cigarette smoke and a hint of that manly woodsy body wash. He's a huge guy and could probably lift you up easily despite your size. Actually, you'd like to see him try.

Your lack of response after wordlessly saying that you're comfortable (you still aren't) leads to Iwaizumi turning more towards you, bending his knee so he's got one leg resting on the bed while the other is still draped over the edge. “You seem like the type of person who doesn't do this type of stuff.”

You shift and look up at him and try not to get hung up on his dark hair and dark brown eyes. “What type of person is that?”

It looks like he's doing his best not to say anything that'll offend you, so he just sighs. “Never mind. Sorry for judging.”

You shrug. At least he's doing his best to be polite. “It's fine.”

He nods. Another awkward moment of silence passes before he makes the move. “Are you ready?”

Your spine rattles and your fingers tremble when you slip your purse off your shoulder and set it down on the floor, next to the corner of the bed that’s against the wall. You look back up at him and move so that you cross your legs on top of the bed, fingers still tangled in each other. “Yeah. Are there… any rules to this?”

As if this is the first time someone's asked him this (that's likely), he gives you a noncommittal shrug. “Not really. Some people say not to kiss them on the mouth. It's too intimate and all that.”

_ So he's done this before _ . Of course he would have. He's pretty hot now that you've gotten a better look at him. Assuming that he gets all that work that's sitting in his living room done and that he pays for this apartment himself, you wonder why he doesn't just have a significant other. Or some person to regularly fuck instead of reaching out to students of the same university.

“Okay,” you reply shortly after he gives you his answer. “I'd...um. Like that rule, too.”

“Noted. You want the lights on or off?”

“Off,” you say too quickly, then add, “please.”

“‘Kay. Lie back for me and I’ll get us started.”

You do as you’re told, since you really don’t know what else to do, anyway. You make yourself comfortable in bed, the pillows firmer than you’d like but it’s nothing you can’t complain outwardly about. Before Iwaizumi shuts off the lamp on his nightstand, he takes off his shirt and you get a full view of all those tattoos that run up his arms and shoulders, extending to his back. You’re not sure if they cover its entirety, since all the light you’ve got now are the street lights that barely seep through the partly-open blinds covering the window above the bed.

Every muscle in your body is as stiff as a board, like you’re ready for your live burial and an eternity of staring into nothing. That nothing materializes into some stranger crawling on top of you, finding your wrists to spread apart some so you don’t actually look like a corpse and pressing his knee between your thighs.

“Relax,” he says in your ear, waking up all your nerves and somehow finding yourself a little bit aroused. That’s a good thing, though. That’s why you’re here.

You feel his hair brush against your jaw as he starts to kiss your neck, so slowly and carefully that it almost feels like he can smell the virginity on you. Even so, you do your best to heed his suggestion, taking slow breaths and enjoying the feel of someone’s lips against your skin for the first time ever.

And really, it feels good. You now understand why all those girls gush over neck kisses; there’s something so intimate and sexy about them without all the romance that’s laced in a kiss on the lips. Although you can see it being a lot more romantic if there’s a relationship involved. Regardless, you appreciate the first move, sighing softly and turning your head to one side so he can kiss all he wants there. Iwaizumi starts to suck on your skin, blood rushing to the site, until he pulls back and leaves you with a little nip that makes you let out some pitchy noise short of a squeal.

He seems to like that, based on the chuckle you hear and the warm breath that grazes over your neck. You have no idea how that’s hot but it is and you can feel yourself getting warmer between your legs, and more so when he nudges your face so you can turn to the other side and have him give the same treatment to the untouched side of your neck. Letting go of your wrists, Iwaizumi opts for getting his hands beneath your shirt, now that you’re somewhat more comfortable. His fingers wrap around your hips, covered by your leggings that you’ve hiked up so high that maybe, just maybe, the elastic will make you look skinnier. Clearly, he’s bothered by the clothes, so he takes the liberty of tugging the band down far enough to expose your hips and give them a squeeze.

There are a lot of things about your body that you aren’t proud of. You’d say hate, but hate is a strong word and you’re trying not to use strong words in your life right now. You’re not sure of Iwaizumi’s taste in people or body types, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment when he’s rubbing his thumbs in pressed circles over your hips that make you spread your legs wider so that he can fit both his knees between them. This time, you let out a full moan, arms finally coming alive to hold onto his solid, inked shoulders as you lift your hips up for more. In the process of doing so, you get a faint feel of the bulge in his jeans. It’s not too apparent (yet?), but it’s something to hopefully look forward to.

Your shirt comes off when you can’t stand the heat anymore, leaving Iwaizumi to unhook your bra and pull it down far enough to expose you. You thank all the gods that the lights are off so he can’t see you and how your eyes are squeezed shut. You don’t have to look at him judging whether or not he’s going to put his mouth there, and he does anyway. With his hands back on your hips and doing that circling motion you start to really get into, he kisses his way down your chest, blindly following the curves of your body so he can find one of your nipples to lick. Moaning again, you arch your chest up to his tongue, the tip of it easily raising one nipple and then the other not long after. He gives them a kiss, too, sucking gently like he knows exactly what he’s doing to stimulate you. You don’t doubt it.

His lips linger at your chest, pressing kisses and nipping skin to make you let out all those noises you didn’t know you could make. In return, your hips come up again to meet with his, and it’s then that you can feel a bigger bulge straining through the fabric. A part of you wants to reach down and touch it, to feel what’s going to go inside you tonight, but you decide to play it safe and keep your hands attached to his shoulders.

That is, until he lets go of your hips to release those hands and to start pulling down your leggings and underwear. It’s an instinct to suddenly try and close your legs, but your action is fruitless when your knees hit his sides and he continues to peel off your clothes. You toss your bra aside, as well, calming yourself once again with slow breaths. He can’t see you. He’s making you feel good. He’s not going to do anything you don’t want to do. That last affirmation has yet to be proven, but at least you can back out at any time. You have the power to do that.

Once your clothes are off, you drop your legs back onto the bed and Iwaizumi presses your thighs apart. He may not be able to see how wet you are, but he’s going to feel it, be it with his tongue or his fingers...or his dick. You’ve heard so many stories about the first time feeling painful because there wasn’t enough foreplay, or because some men simply couldn’t arouse their partners. While he’s definitely got you going without even so much as putting a hand between your legs, doubt arises when you don’t know what he’s going to do next.

Looks like he doesn’t know, either. Seconds pass and he hasn’t done anything besides keep your legs open. Is he going to eat you out? Is he going to turn you around and fuck you from behind instead? Just as you open your mouth to ask, he leans forward towards your face and breaks the silence.

“I’m going to use my fingers first,” he says, his lips once again so close to your ear that you shudder and feel yourself clench at air, “then I’ll fuck you. Is that okay?”

For a one night stand, he’s awfully thoughtful of you and making sure you’re getting your end of the deal. At this rate, he’s probably going to make you come at least once, assuming he’s going to actually make you come. You better fucking hope so, otherwise your first time’s going to be a complete bust and a sad waste of time. Another reason why this might have been a bad idea. You’ll judge it by the end of this.

Most of your worries and some of your fears are cast aside when one of your legs is let loose and two fingers are pressed right up to your wetness, rubbing the soaked skin slowly to light the rest of your nerves on fire. You hold onto the sheets this time when you moan, savoring each stroke and slide up and down. Iwaizumi easily finds your clit and rubs it with that same slow motion that’s beginning to make you lose your mind. 

You could come just like this, if he keeps rubbing your clit and gradually uses more pressure. However, he’s got other plans. One finger, you think it’s his middle, teases against your entrance, and after a few shallow presses he slowly pushes inside and you’re ready to die and go to heaven.

You’ve fingered yourself before to get off, but it’s not your first choice for an orgasm. Iwaizumi fingering you, though, if he combines the way he just rubbed your clit, would be mind-blowing. His one finger is thicker and longer than your own, reaching you so deeply and easily you had no idea how far someone can be inside you. And thanks to your arousal and his pace, nothing feels uncomfortable at the moment. You’re still hoping he doesn’t know this is your first time. You can handle him knowing that this is your first uncommitted fling. Not so much the other thing that for some reason a lot of people care about even though it’s your business.

Iwaizumi pulls his finger out almost all the way, leaving the very tip inside you, then adds a second finger before pressing much slower this time. You try to bring your knees in again but it’s no dice. By the way your legs are now free to move and with the minimal light coming through the window, you can conclude that he’s touching himself while touching you, too, and that makes you wetter and more relaxed when he keeps pushing all the way in.

It’s a stretch you could compare to when you use three fingers, but that’s rare. The new sensation continues to cloud your head, pleasure and lust raining down on all your thoughts that drive you to want more. You moan and squirm slightly as he gets you opened up, moving faster once he knows you’re not going to be in pain. When he curls his fingers just right you could swear you see stars on the ceiling. 

Nearly screaming, a palm flies to cover your mouth. His body hulks over you in a second, fingers still pointed up to your g-spot while your eyes are wide open and your hips are flinching.

“You’re going to wake my neighbors,” he murmurs, the bit of roughness in his voice not so much scary as it is arousing. You tighten around his fingers and bite your lip beneath his palm when he retracts it. He starts moving his fingers again, massaging that spot inside you while he uses his thumb on his other hand to rub your clit at that perfect pace to push you over the edge.

In seconds, you’re gone. To make sure you’re not making an embarrassing amount of noise to wake up Iwaizumi’s neighbors, you grab a pillow and yell into the fabric as you come. Your hips move wildly to the point where you hear the bed creak with all your bouncing, all the while Iwaizumi keeps his fingers in place and moving for the duration of your orgasm. You were never able to achieve something so intense before; maybe it’s because you were thinking about all these fantasies that may never happen. And the fact that you couldn’t find your g-spot, but you dare not tell anyone that. You toss the pillow aside when you stop moaning like it’s your first time (still is, nothing’s changed), breathing heavily and lying limp as Iwaizumi pulls his fingers out and you can see some sort of outline that showcases him sucking his fingers. Oh god you’re ready for more.

He comes back up to kiss your chest and collarbones, lips landing on your neck in an instant like it’s the home base you two agreed upon. You’re about to hold onto him again but you see him reach for a condom on his nightstand. Coming back up, you watch the shadowy figure of a man undo his pants, unable to see just how big he is but you suppose you’re going to find out anyway through a sense other than sight. During this time, you find your breath once more, calming yourself and keeping your legs wide open and needy and ready for what’s going to come.

“How are you doing?” he asks as you hear the sound of the small packet being torn open.

“I’m doing great, thank you very much,” you answer easily, your head stuck in post-orgasm bliss but ready to come back down so you can  _ really _ get your first time going. “You?”

He laughs, so low it’s like a rumble and a precursor to a storm coming. Though, you can’t help but think you’re the only person who’s asked him that and that’s why he’s laughing. It’s more plausible when he answers, “Good, thanks. Usually the other person just begs to be fucked instead of answering or asking the question back.”

Your laugh comes naturally, albeit unexpectedly. If you didn’t just come thanks to this guy’s fingers, you’d be uncomfortable knowing that he’s been with multiple people and that you’re just another person on a to-do list. A sad, inexperienced person on a to-do list. “Now that I’ve asked and answered, you should...you know.”

“Fuck you?”

“Mhm.” You hesitate, then repeat softly. “Fuck me.”

Iwaizumi finishes rolling on the condom and tosses the empty packet back on the nightstand when he hovers over you. Though you can’t see it, you can feel some sort of gaze boring into your face, gauging how he’s going to move and how quickly or slowly he’s going to do it. Perhaps that virgin energy of yours is channeling itself into his head so he isn’t going to snap his hips in one go. You feel the tip of his cock touch your clit and you automatically whimper, an arm coming around his back so you can hold on.

“Don’t worry,” he says, this time against your lips when his forehead rests lightly atop yours. His hands are on your hips again. “I’m gonna go slow. Looks like you like it that way.”

You don’t say anything, but you appreciate the thought. After one more exhale, you feel that initial push inside you, that stretch wider than two fingers and all your parts feeling like they’re going to be split in two. Iwaizumi is  _ huge _ , and you’d love to gush about that now but you’re extremely focused on how you’re feeling.

A few centimeters in and you’re okay, but a few more and your whimpers turn into little cries of pain. You tap his back and inhale sharply. “Fuck. Fuck, that hurts—”

Iwaizumi pulls out immediately and rubs your sides. “Sorry. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Shit.” Your chest heave and you shift under him to try and get comfortable again. It’s not his fault that he’s big, just like it’s not your fault for being so sensitive. His hands on you, gliding like they’re smoothing down edges of a sculpture, warm you up and help you find that bit of courage so you can try taking him in again. You let about a minute pass so you can get yourself together, then you tell him, “Alright. Ready.”

His hands secure themselves around your hips again and you feel the head of his cock push in. That part feels good. You can handle that. A little more and it feels the same when he tried the first time. He gets to the point where you had him pull out right afterward, and this time he moves in an almost non-existent pace. Little by little, you get more of him, that wet stretch of skin and muscle part amazing, part tight. Impossibly tight. What you’re assuming is halfway in and he stops to kiss your jaw, his first kiss to your face.

“I’m not going to move any deeper unless you tell me to.”

You sigh deeply, not so much because you’re relieved you aren’t going to get more of his cock but you’re really just trying to get used to the however many centimeters that are splitting you like a sundae. Your whimpers go back to being moans while you hook your fingers to his shoulders. “This is good. You can move.”

Without another word, Iwaizumi fulfills your request. He moves carefully, still slowly, only going as far as you allow him. At last, this is what it feels like. After that small threshold of pain, you get to enjoy him. Most of him. Your body becomes more and more pliant in his arms with every push and pull, every sigh and moan and every time you hear him voice out his own pleasure, too. Soon enough, you have some confidence fucked into you. It’s possible that you can handle more. Iwaizumi’s got so much to give and you’re not going to let that go to waste.

“More,” you whisper in his ear, nails pressing harder as he starts to move faster, “I want more, Iwaizumi.”

Some sound that’s dark and really fucking sexy leaves his throat. For a second you think you’re going to get the rest of his cock and that might be a bad idea considering that that’s just going to be a hell of a lot more pain, but instead he works gradually. Faster and a little harder, he grips your hips and lifts them from the mattress like you’re a feather until he works all the way inside you while you’re clawing at the sheets and moaning up to the ceiling.

It’s  _ almost _ too painful to have his whole cock in you. Is it his whole cock? You open your eyes to find no visual evidence, but you can see some sort of shadow towering over you, feel his own skin and hair brushing up between your legs and  _ holy shit _ it’s a lot to have inside you. Any bigger and he’d be hitting some other body parts in you that will absolutely not be fun. But  _ holy shit _ . It feels so good, too good to be so filled up. You wrap your legs around his waist once you’ve adjusted to his entire length, jerking your hips to encourage him to start fucking you again.

Like this, Iwaizumi can fuck you hard and fast and get all those spots he hasn’t gotten to with just half his cock. You think you’re going to lose all of your lung power by the end of this. Blame all the heavy breathing and the moaning and the way you can’t even say his name in one motion. “I—wai—zu—mi—”

He hits your g-spot in one hard thrust and you shriek. He hits it again, and again, coming back down to toss the pillow back into your face so you can mute all of your cries. He rubs your clit in hard, tight circles, pounding into you like nothing matters anymore and that’s what does it for you.

With your legs tightly wrapped around him that he almost can’t move, you scream into the pillow, letting your orgasm release not only pleasure but all the other emotions you’ve been feeling coming into his apartment. You’ve been lonely for so long, so alone with the thought of never being treated like this. Fuck, you still don’t know if you’ll ever be treated like this again. Regardless if you toss the pillow aside or not, you’re not going to see a face, or hear a voice that will reassure you, feel a kiss that will ignite some sort of passion that’ll make you fall in love. Combining those realizations with how incredible you feel, it’s too much.

So much, that you start crying as you moan.

But you two aren’t done yet. You sniffle and pat the pillowcase over your eyes so he isn’t going to notice your tears. When you think you’re done with all that emotion, you toss the pillow back to where it was in bed and focus on how Iwaizumi is slamming inside you and pressing your hips so hard you’ll get bruises. Your moans are quieter, but nonetheless continuous as he thrusts and thrusts and slams deep, spilling into the condom as he groans so deeply that you feel the sound shake in your chest. If only you could feel him coming inside you, coating all that muscle in white like he’s going to claim you. He’s not.

You’re quiet once you relax, bringing your legs back down onto the bed and releasing your hands from the sheets. He pulls out slowly and slides off the bed to take off his condom and throw it away. In that time, you wipe your eyes and turn that noise-cancelling pillow over in case there are clear marks of your tears. He’s about to turn on the lights and you throw your hand over to reach for his wrist and stop him. The feeling of not having him between your legs is now a flavor of soreness that’s going to be much more apparent when you get up and walk.

“Wait. Not yet.”

A pause. “Oh. Sorry.”

You let go and he stands by the bed and nightstand when you sit up, feeling around for your clothes. Iwaizumi catches on and traces back to where he threw your leggings and underwear, picking them up and handing them to you once you find your bra and your shirt. You thank him quietly and finish dressing, trying not to wince when you bend your knees and get your feet on the ground.

When Iwaizumi turns on the lights, he’s got nothing but underwear on. Your question from earlier is answered and you see that his tattoos cover some of his back, not all of it. He’s also got one on his outer thigh based on some of the ink you see peeking out of his boxer briefs.

“You can still stay over, if you want to.”

You shake your head. You arranged this ahead of time, telling him via text message that you’ll leave right after. Then again, you should have considered how you were going to feel after your first time. You hope someone won’t notice you wobbling down the halls when you get back to your dorm tonight. It’s late, but you know there are some night owls who may be wandering around your hall.

You push yourself off the bed and try to stand for a few seconds. It’s a success, but moving a few steps to grab your purse isn’t as successful. Iwaizumi catches you in time before you can fall flat on your face, short of reaching your purse. He’s strong, alright, being able to lift you back up and sit you back down on the bed. The soothing touch to your hips is a pleasant addition to the comfort.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure,” you say firmly. “I don’t want to be any more trouble.”

“You weren’t any trouble at all,” he says. “You were great.”

Your cheeks burn and you avoid looking at his face when you reach for your purse in a second attempt. You snatch it this time now that you’re closer, but now you reconsider standing up right away, especially with how close Iwaizumi is next to you.

“Do you compliment every person who comes over?” you ask. Not the best way to continue a post-sex conversation, but it’s something.

“Heh. No, but I was thinking you needed it. You seemed really nervous since I answered the door, like it’s kind of obvious that this is your first time doing this.”

There it is. Gotta give credit to his observation skills. Assuming he’s been with a laundry list of people, you figure that he’s pretty good at gauging what people like and don’t like in bed, identifying how they react to certain actions and what he can do to make them feel better. You don’t have a defense to present to him so you just shrug. “Got me there. But, uh...thanks for tonight. I really appreciate it.”

He rubs your hip before letting you go. “Yeah. Me too.”

You try not to look at him again when you stand up this time around. It’s already an adventure to get to the doorstep and put on your shoes, but you nonetheless get it done while Iwaizumi watches you with some sort of scrutiny you don’t want to notice. He opens up the door for you and you step out, nearly tripping but catching yourself this time. Out of respect, you guess, you turn around to face him, blinking away the last of your sorrows that were released when you came.

“You have my number,” Iwaizumi says. “If you ever want to do this again, just text me.”

You nod. “Thanks again. Good night, Iwaizumi.”

“Good night, Yuki.”

He closes his door and you’re left with a thousand things to think about, right from when you make your way to your car to getting up to your dorm and shedding your clothes to go to sleep. Should you have stayed with him? Should you have gotten the whole first time experience and see what it’d be like waking up next to a stranger? Is he just as decent during the day like he is when he’s with you and other people? Do you have the courage to send him a message so you can see him again?

You have no idea. Good thing you cried it out while you were there. Now, you can drift off to sleep in your own bed, knowing that you were able to do something that by not doing it has been making you feel so insecure. You’ve got a genuine first time story to tell to people if they ever ask. That’s something to smile about.

Alternatively, you can cry again until you fall asleep, knowing that you brought yourself to this level to get some emotionless experience without any connection to the other person whatsoever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP
> 
> As you saw, I'm turning this into a three-part story. More plot! More tears! More sex with your favorite Seijoh ace in an AU where he's kinda sad too!
> 
> Thanks so much for the support so far. I know my work means a lot to some of you and it's always very heartwarming to know that I'm making such an impact.
> 
> And thanks again to Mari for beta reading.   
> (I recommend reading Provocateur and being less sad there. Her Kuroo is a sweetheart)

What the hell kind of beer tastes the best after getting an A on an exam?

Your friends have trusted you to buy the alcohol, though you’re not sure why you decided to take on the job of doing so. You’ve had your fair share of drinks here and there, but that doesn’t make you some sort of connoisseur. You’re not even a huge fan of beer. The only selling point is that it’s supposed to taste good with pizza. If that’s what the gods of grain and fermentation say, then sure. You’ll go for it.

It’s been a month since visiting Iwaizumi. You don’t have his name saved on your phone, just a number that’s further down in your history of text messages. There have still been bad nights in which you can’t sleep properly, or when some thoughts are just too much and you need a time out from your work, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t had good times. When you thought you couldn’t even pass an exam in your least favorite class, you come out of the classroom sitting with an A and a steady overall grade going into the last leg of your first semester. This grade is the one big thing in your life that you haven’t fucked up and you’re absolutely, definitely going to celebrate.

After staring at the refrigerated section of the mini-mart for a solid ten minutes with probably less knowledge than you had coming in, you decide on some 24-pack of Sapporo that will be more than sufficient for you and three other friends. When you approach the register, though, you nearly drop the box on your foot, eyes wide and heart on pause.

Iwaizumi’s got a sports magazine open and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth because of course he can get away with that (can he, even if it’s unlit?). He sits behind the counter, minding his own business in a blue apron and shirt that shows off those gorgeous arms again. In the month you haven’t seen him, you’ve come to the conclusion that you are, indeed, a sucker for arms. No other person you’ve met has had guns that pop like his. And yeah, you for sure started noticing other people’s arms since seeing him, whether it’s been a conscious thing or not.

He only pops his head up when the front door opens and the bell at the top dings. After a half-hearted “Welcome” he turns to you and goes equally surprised. The half-smile he sends your way makes you want to drop the beer and run and come up with some lame excuse to your friends, but you’re better than that. You got an A on an exam. You can talk to some guy you slept with once (even though you cried and still had a breakdown that night). 

“Partying tonight?” he asks you right off the bat, tipping his head towards the 24-pack in both your arms.

You nod and bring it up to the counter so he can ring it up. The cigarette is still in his mouth when he rotates in his stool and pushes a few buttons on the register. He tells you how much you have to pay, then you dig in your wallet for all the right bills. It’s an odd silence that doesn’t sit right with you when you give him the money, so you kick yourself in the head and keep your chin up when he deals with the change.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” you say. Not a great conversation starter, but it’s a start.

“I live across the street. Easy job, convenient hours and place,” he replies as he returns the change to you. There’s a lot happening on his one arm. Burning buildings, dramatic faces on the people running away from...flying saucers and Godzilla? You almost don’t hear his answer when you’re lost in whatever story his tattoos are trying to tell.

“You didn’t want to get a job inside the school?” you ask. From what you’ve heard, they pay like shit, so it’s reasonable that he got a job off-campus.

He stares at you blankly for a moment, then takes the cigarette out of his mouth to toy with it in his fingers like he’s fighting himself to not light it and break all the store rules. Nice self-control. “At the university? I’m not a student there.”

“Oh. Uh.” There go all your theories as to why you never see him on campus, besides the fact that the university is huge and tens of thousands of students go there. “But what about the textbooks and stuff? From your...living room?”

Is that even an appropriate thing to ask? It’s not like he’s going to hide it, not after you’ve (sort of) seen his dick. Or maybe he’s a really private person and he thinks you didn’t notice all the shit laying around his apartment. In case you need to take off right away because you said something out of place, you reach for your beer on the counter and bring it closer to your body.

“I go to the community college a few blocks from here.”

“Really? What are you studying?” you blurt. Standard question after asking if someone is a student, even if that someone doesn’t even go to your school and has an impressive track record in bed.

He stares at you again, rolling the cigarette in his fingers. “You ask a lot of questions.”

Standards don’t work sometimes. You get yourself together and make sure you’re not going to drop this box and pivot so you can march out the door and forget this conversation ever happened. Your friends are waiting, anyway. “Right. Sorry. I’m gonna go now.”

“Hey, Yuki. Yuki!”

You turn around when you’re about to push the door open with your foot. That’s right—you came up with that name the night you saw him. You haven’t used it since. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach that you know is going to go away once you get back to your friend’s dorm. The cause is stabbing his (still unlit) cigarette in an ashtray by the register and stepping away from the counter to approach you. If only your brain and all those hormones actually worked properly and your flight response could kick in right about now.

“You okay?”

He just called you out for asking too many questions. You  _ should _ be okay, but you aren’t and you’re going to maybe drink that embarrassment away once you’re able to hightail it out of here. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t,” he pauses, turning away to look at the other customer inside and looking like he’s trying to find the right words, “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You raise an eyebrow. It doesn’t seem like he’s referring to whatever just happened two seconds ago. “Like...when I saw you last time? Yeah, no. You didn’t hurt me at all.”

“Are you sure?”

More question marks pile into your head. Why is he talking about this now? “I’m sure. I should get going.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn quickly and push yourself out while the other customer calls for Iwaizumi saying that he’s ready to be rung up. You head to your car as fast as you can and hit the gas when you know there aren’t any cars around to smash when you speed away.

 

God, you may not always get good grades, but when you celebrate, you celebrate.

Turns out the beer you bought is indeed kind of gross, but you’re able to stomach one can while you scarf down several slices of pizza. The nice thing about friends is that they don’t judge you by how much you eat since they’re also tearing through the boxes and celebrating their own accomplishments. Whether or not they even say anything about your appearance or personality behind your back is some bit of paranoia for you to not care about at the moment. At the moment, it’s food and drink and binge watching some show you’ve been meaning to watch for ages but haven’t gotten around to it for a multitude of reasons. It’s a good night, despite the fact that you’re the only one not wasted out of your mind.

Well into the night, your friend begs you to take the rest of the unopened beer. Something about her parents coming over and not wanting them to know about how much she drinks (even though she isn’t the only one that got into that box). You can’t say no to a distraught, flushed face that’s ready to be buried into her pillows. Your other two friends are already passed out in the living room, snoring loudly. After giving all of them kisses to the forehead and saying your good nights, you head out to your car, the beer taking its place in the passenger seat. Your phone vibrates a few seconds after you start the car. It’s a message from a number you don’t recognize.

“Sorry for acting weird earlier. I’m going to school so I can become a fireman.”

Based on previous messages and all that’s happened tonight, you know exactly who this is. Though you have absolutely no information about Iwaizumi besides how he treated you in bed that one night, you can lead to the safe conclusion that he’s a decent person. That’s not set in stone just yet, but imagining him slide down a pole in a uniform is fueling some garden variety fantasy you’ve had tucked away in your subconscious for ages. Still doesn’t justify your reasoning about his intentions, but your mind is already off the rails knowing this information.

You text back, “It’s fine. Sounds pretty cool.”

“Sounds pretty hot” would have been a better message, but it’s too late. It’s probably better that way since you two aren’t at that level of telling bad puns to each other. You wait a few seconds then add something else that’s on your mind, “And really. I’m okay. Do you check in on your other partners after a certain period of time like this?”

You don’t think he’s going to reply when you wait a few minutes in this parking lot, but he does.

“Only the ones who cry.”

You’re ready to cry again. Fuck this guy. He just had to be nice to ask about you and now you feel like you’ve been kicked off your own cloud nine to descend back into the reality that is your hell of insecurity and self-doubt. It’s not his fault that you start to feel all that sorrow bubble up in your head and in your heart. It’s not like he even  _ said _ anything to start making you feel this way. He didn’t insult you or imply anything cruel. He was simply...asking if you’re okay. Because he likely figured out what happened that night. Stupid pillowcase. Stupid emotions. Stupid you.

You aren’t okay. But you are okay. The reasons for each are not one and the same.

A deep inhale and your phone vibrates again. “Assuming you’re not too drunk, you’re welcome to stop by my place. Just clocked out. Don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do.”

What is this?  _ He’s _ the one initiating a meeting with you? You didn’t sign up for this. All you wanted was to have sex and be done with it. You got what you wanted. Why should you go and see him again?

You check the time. It’s not that late. You’re not going to do anything when you get back to your dorm besides sleep, probably. If you somehow get horny enough, maybe you can put your hand down your pants and think about Iwaizumi covered in soot and holding onto a massive hose to put out a raging fire. All those pretty muscles will be flexed and Godzilla will be stomping around that ink city on his arm.

You put on your seatbelt and groan loudly.  _ Fuck it _ .

 

He opens up the door to you holding a half-empty box. Without your asking, he takes it from you and invites you inside. 

“Thank you,” you say softly and nudge the door shut.

Iwaizumi takes a peek as to how many are left. “You and your friends figure out that this beer sucks?”

You’re in the process of taking off your other shoe when he asks. Just as you thought—you’re no connoisseur. “I thought they liked it. I’m pretty sure one of my friends downed three cans in a minute.”

He laughs and you can feel that rumble in your chest again. Now’s not the time. “And what about you? Put away the other nine in five minutes?”

Your lips flatline and you shake your head. “It’s gross. Even with pizza.”

“Pizza?” he repeats incredulously as he shoves the box in his refrigerator and returns to the living room. He takes a seat on the floor and pats the spot next to him. “Nah. That stuff is better with ramen.”

Instead of the books and a laptop on his table, he’s got a takeout box and some chopsticks, along with a bottle of water and a TV remote and an ashtray. The movie that’s playing looks like a familiar blockbuster other people have been talking about, but you haven’t seen. Ideally, you start from there. Ask for the title of the movie, answer that you haven’t seen it before, bring up what you were watching earlier with your drunk friends. But for some reason, your brain chooses a different track.

“So you figured out that I cried last time I was here?”

He’s about to take a bite of his chicken but he puts the chopsticks and box down. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but then I saw the pillow after you left.”

“Oh.” Your throat goes dry. “Sorry?”

He turns down the TV volume. “Don’t be. Was it something I said?”

“ _ No _ , Iwaizumi, I just—” your hands come together, dropping from the table to your lap while you try to explain yourself, “I have a lot going on.”

“Heh. Join the club.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

No answer. All you hear is the score for the movie playing in front of you two, the string section barrelling through measures as the leads run from whatever danger is approaching them. This was a mistake and you should leave. You two don’t seem like the type to have a conversation; every comment feels like there’s something negative behind it, something that’ll just turn on the switch and tell you that he isn’t a good person. In your defense, you feel that way about a lot of people. You just feel it more because you hardly know Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi doesn’t look like he’s planning on answering your question, so you ask another. “Why did you invite me here?”

He shrugs after swallowing his food. “Dunno. Why’d you come over?”

You shrug, too. “It’s not that late. I’m not drunk. But I’m feeling kind of stupid seeing you again.”

“You sound like all the other people who come here.”

Your legs are telling you to get the fuck up, but you don’t move. He’s got a lot going on, he invited you over on a late-ish Friday night, your allusion to your stupidity reminds him of all the other people who probably just come over for a fuck and leave once they have an orgasm or two. It’s a lot to unpack, and though you shouldn’t, you want to know more. You  _ need _ to know more. Maybe you don’t have the right to know, but it’s worth a shot.

“Iwaizumi,” you say softly, detangling your hands and looking up at him, “exactly how many people have you...been with?”

The chopsticks clink together when he puts down his takeout and grabs his water. He looks at you with a gaze that’s probably analyzing what you’re trying to get out of the question, like he needs to decide if he’s going to lie to you or not. You don’t care if he lies (a small part of you hopes it’s not a big number, whether it’s the truth or not). What matters is if he’s going to answer you or not.

After a drink, he sighs out, “Enough for me to know that relationships are bullshit.”

Jeez. It’s like opening up a Russian nesting doll full of complicated emotions and some sort of background that’s as damaging and unfortunate as yours. You don’t know if you want to open him up any further. That line feels like enough.

“You  _ do _ have a lot going on,” you say, leaning on the table and resting your head on top of your folded arms. “Sorry to pry.”

He shrugs again, shifting to stand and clear the table free of his late night dinner. The movie looks like it’s reaching its turning point, or another major plot reveal, you don’t know. Rather than turning up the volume, you get a better feel of his living room. It’s not big at all, but there’s enough space for it to house a shelf with a lot more DVDs. Movie buff  _ and _ buff. If you look hard enough, you mind find the original Godzilla and all of its remakes, including the American ones. The window behind the TV is open, and there are some other little things lying around—his textbooks on fire science, an exam prep book, note cards. There’s even a volleyball under his desk and you wonder if he used to play, or if he still does. You’ve always admired those players back in high school—tall, strong, skinny…

You’re lost in some thoughts when he returns, now holding a carton of cigarettes and two beers—presumably one of them for you. Tonight has been good, for the most part, and you really shouldn’t have some dude bring it down when you inadvertently dug deep enough to know that he’s got his own issues to address. Giving it another shot, you sit up and crack open the can, taking a sip and shuddering.

“Still gross,” you say.

Iwaizumi opens up his beer and takes a generous swig before tapping out a cigarette from his carton. You don’t know anything about the stuff, but you do know that there’s some irony in a man who smokes Hope cigarettes and wants to be a fireman. Before you can make out what’s engraved on his lighter, he puts it down and looks at you.

“Do you care if I…?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s bad for you, but I’m not going to stop you.”

“Sleeping with strangers is also bad, but that didn’t stop you.”

Your brows furrow. “That didn’t stop  _ us _ , and that apparently doesn’t stop you.”

He smiles, lighting up and inhaling deeply, making sure to blow the smoke away from your face and towards the open window. “Hey. I’ve got another question for you.”

You take another sip of beer to prepare yourself. It doesn’t help. “Go for it.”

He blows another cloud towards the window, then turns to you. “Why did you message me in the first place?”

Oh boy. Now is a great time to be vague. You don’t  _ have _ to tell him that you were inexperienced before you saw that message and that you were feeling wildly insecure about how nobody’s ever touched you. You don’t have to tell him that you were in the middle of a downward spiral and you found a solution at the right time. You don’t have to tell him that you were terrified for all the reasons someone should be terrified of meeting a complete stranger from the Internet.

“To have fun?” you say, in that upward inflection that makes your answer totally ingenuine. Iwaizumi catches it right away. You drink some more beer.

“Bullshit. You can drink beer and eat pizza with your friends to have fun.”

“Look, I think you already know that I’m not going to tell you why.”

“Fine,” he says bitterly, then takes another long drag. “Not to ‘judge’ you again, but you look like the type who could just, you know, do all the traditional stuff and do it when the time’s right. Have someone ask you out, go to the movies and have dinner. All that shit. You seem like a nice person.”

You groan. “Thanks, but nice people can sleep around, too.”

“Okay.” He takes a drink, this time a lot longer as if he’s going to finish the beer, then huffs, “Tell that to the last two girls who said that I fuck them better than their boyfriends. Not ex-boyfriends, boyfriends. You can also tell the guy who tried to steal money out of my wallet early one morning. And the guy who walked out and told me to fuck off when I told him that I sleep with whoever the hell wants to sleep with me.”

“Alright!” you exclaim, looking everywhere but at him, “I get it. Fuck, dude.”

You don’t say anything for a while, just drink. In Iwaizumi’s case, finishes his cigarette. Forget pizza or ramen. Alcohol paired with emotional compromise is better than any food anyone can offer you. You could cry this out, but not while you’re in front of him. 

A lick of strength lies beneath all your discomfort, so you break the silence. You ask him slowly, softly, “Why do you still do this, if people aren’t nice?”

Instead of shrugging or blowing more smoke that’s poisoning his lungs, he shakes his head this time, grabbing a hold of his beer can and looking at the table as if you can find a better answer there than from him. His voice is even softer than yours, “Sometimes you just need someone, anyone at night, when you feel alone and need to remember what it feels like to be wanted.”

Of all things that could have made you cry tonight, it’s this. It’s like he ripped a future thought of yours out of your head and projected it openly between you two. You try to hide your sniffling and the tears that run down your cheeks, turning away to wipe your eyes and breathe slowly. You’ve collectively known Iwaizumi for a few hours and you now know that you both have more things in common than originally thought. Loneliness comes in different flavors, but it all feels the same in the end.

“Shit,” you hear from one side, then some friction against the mats you’re sitting on. “Fuck, I did it again. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, then welcome the hug he offers you. It’s warm and tight and it smells of cigarettes and pine needles, but it’s a hug. A sincere, big hug coming from someone who thinks he fucked up again. He didn’t fuck up at all. Neither of you fucked up. Except maybe you since you’re rubbing tears and snot all over Iwaizumi’s shirt. He pulls back and you think he’s going to say something about it, but he doesn’t.

“How about we just drop all of this,” he says. “You saw me for your reasons, and I...I do what I do for mine. Deal?”

You nod, then reply tearfully, “Deal.”

He doesn’t mind when you drop your head back to his chest, inhaling that distinct scent once more as you feel his hand rub up and down your spine. Comfort settles in your back and radiates to your chest the longer he holds you. You don’t remember the last time someone has ever done this for you. If circumstances were better, if you weren’t so shy and scared, you could kiss him right on the mouth.

But you don’t. You tip your head up and go for his jaw instead, like where he kissed you last time. “Thank you.”

“Eh? What did I do besides make you cry?”

“You didn’t make me cry,” you deny after sucking in a breath. “You made me feel, I don’t know, better?”

“By making you cry?”

“By hugging me,” you say, stifling the groan you were about to give him, “and telling me all that stuff about you. I didn’t know.”

“Nobody knows,” he says, the hand not on your back coming up to push the hair out of your face. “Nobody bothers to ask.”

“Because they aren’t nice.”

You see his face light up and all those knots in your stomach start to unwind. Your cheek is warm where he touches it and that helps, too. “Right.”

The smile on his face is precious. You want to kiss it, but you stop yourself again. Now that some of the tension has been released and you can move on from such heavy conversations about sex and loneliness, you can try to revert back to the mood you were feeling much earlier in the night: joy.

You grab your beer and hand Iwaizumi his, scooting back a centimeter and holding it up. “Here’s to...getting better. Better at dealing with whatever shit is dealt to us.”

He raises his can. “Cheers.”

The cans clink and you take a braver glug of the bitter stuff, while Iwaizumi finishes his own and sets the can aside. You do the same and sigh. “You know, to confirm all your judgement, I’m not cheating on anyone or any shit like that. Fuck, I...I haven’t even  _ been _ with another person. Besides you.”

You don’t see it because you’re avoiding eye contact again, but you can practically feel his eyes widening and all the interjections that will be thrown at you. “You  _ what _ ?”

“Hey, we said to drop all of this.”

“It’s your fault for bringing this up,” he says immediately, then holds you by the waist and looks you up and down. “I— _ I’m _ your first? Why didn’t you—”

“I wanted to get it out of the way. That’s why I saw you.” You finish your beer and swallow it this time without feeling like you’re going to throw it back up. You don’t know exactly how much alcohol is in it, but you can blame it along with Iwaizumi’s touch for making you a dash more courageous. “Not gonna tell you my own problems now, but I will tell you that you were amazing. Really, really amazing. And I don’t regret it at all.”

“Heh.” You can see that he’s trying to let it sink in his head that you lost your virginity to him. You can imagine that it’s not common at all for someone to ask a stranger to do such a thing. It clicks in his head, though, and in return he brings you closer to him so that your knees touch. “I’m glad I made it good for you, you little screamer.”

“Don’t get cocky now,” you say with a smirk. Poor choice of words from both of you because now you’re flashing back to that night you were in his bed, legs spread wide open while you nearly woke up his neighbors with all the noise you made. You look down to find his hands still on your waist, so you pull them off you so you can hold them. “I liked screaming for you.”

He pauses before totally changing the subject and avoiding the sexual tension, “You never told me why you were partying tonight.”

“Oh!” You smile wider and gently squeeze his hands. Probably feels like nothing to him. “I got an A on an exam. It doesn’t happen all too often so it called for celebration.”

He smiles wider, too. “Ohh, good for you. You’re nice  _ and  _ you’re smart.”

“Sure,” you shrug, then babble on, “hell, if I wanted to celebrate a little more, I could have texted you first. Without all that stuff happening at the mini mart, too. And the crying.”

Iwaizumi’s struck with silence, hands freezing up in yours. It takes a few seconds before he leans in closer to you, his own smirk turned up on his face. “You’re already here. If you’re not feeling sad anymore, I can use some, uh, fun.”

You laugh, following his lead when he pulls your hands forward then takes you by the hips so you can sit on his lap. You’re not a fan of having your weight on top of someone, but you ignore it for the time being, especially when you’ve never been able to do this before besides when you were a kid.

“I think we could both use it,” you repeat, “since, you know. We’ve got a lot going on.”

“Yeah. You wanna fuck here or in my bed?”

He’s so blatant. Blushing, you take a moment to decide which might be more suitable tonight. You’re distracted by his hands moving up and down your sides and how close his lips are to your neck. Ohh, those bites.

“I think the bedroom would be more comfortable,” you decide. Don’t want to get too crazy for your second time. Yeah, no, you didn’t get laid this past month. It was back to being unnoticed and just a friend, but you’re done being all sad tonight. You already cried.

Iwaizumi shuts off the TV before holding you close and practically hopping up on his feet with ease. You help and throw your arms around his neck, scrambling to get your legs around him while he securely holds you by the thighs. Okay, sure, firemen have to carry a lot of weight, but you still don’t exactly suspect him being able to do it  _ now _ . Or maybe you did. That’s what your body wants.

“Relax,” he tells you, just like how he did the first time around. It takes only a few steps before he lays you down on the bed, making his legs comfortable between yours as he moves down to finally kiss you on the neck.

Those same nerves light on fire, all those sensations returning to your head and to the rest of your body like you’re reliving the memory. His room is dark and his sheets smell faintly of laundry soap. It doesn’t take you very long to get comfortable, your hands going from shaky to determined as you run your fingers through his hair.

“You know what you deserve tonight?” Iwaizumi murmurs between his neck kisses.

“Hm?”

Another wet kiss. He sucks your skin to draw out a longer, louder moan from you before finishing, “Head. I want to eat you out.”

“Oh my god.” You’ve heard all the stories of what it’s like to have someone go down on them. All that indirect begging towards no one in particular for their head between their legs. It’s supposed to be an amazing experience if the other person does it right. Throw some fingers and maybe some toys in the mix and you could get some varied, magical results.

You stop, though, and hesitate before giving him an answer. “I…” 

Let’s be real, here. It’s a pain in the ass to shave down south. All the potential accidents, the razor burns, the fact that getting any soap or cleaner in that area could lead to a nasty infection. You do your best to keep it managed, but sometimes, like now when you’re so busy and pretty much self-conscious about the rest of your appearance anyway, you just let your hair do what it wants. Sure, Iwaizumi stuck his fingers (and his dick) inside you last time, but having his  _ mouth _ try and navigate through all that hair?

“What?” he asks like he’s surprised you didn’t enthusiastically say yes after voicing your agreement. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, no, I—” you hesitate again, “I haven’t shaved. I’m not prepared for this.”

You can see Iwaizumi shaking his head in the dark and coming back down to kiss your jaw. “I don’t care about that. I’ll do it anyway. I want to do it for you.”

_ He wants to do it for me. _ How thoughtful. Like, actually thoughtful. The general consensus seems to be that being hairless is the way to go. You can see why—no chance of getting it stuck in your teeth, direct contact with skin. The time you have to put into that, though. It’s already a pain in the ass shaving your legs in the dorm bathroom as you hope not to slip to your doom. There’s no way you could just spread your legs out wide and get a razor to chop through that mess of other hair. Yet Iwaizumi is still more than willing to get his mouth on you.

So he wins. You hum your agreement, legs falling open as he brings a hand over your chest to give you a squeeze, his thumb brushing against your nipple. “I like these too, you know.”

“Ah—” you lean up into his hand like you did last time. “I like it when you touch me.”

“You do?” One more firm squeeze and he drifts his hand lower to slide his fingers over your pants, waking you and starting to heat up all that sensitive skin. “I like it, too. And you’re going to like it even more when I taste you.”

“Oh  _ fuck _ .”

Your clothes come off quickly. It’s all too hot for you to keep anything on and Iwaizumi can’t see you anyway when you’re playing with your tits and spreading your legs to let him feel (and taste) how wet you are. He shuffles around to get naked too, right before kissing down your belly and up your thighs, settling on his stomach and getting his head right between your legs. You’re doing your best to get the last of your reservations out of your head, especially when you can feel his breath against you and his thumbs spreading your skin.

The first lick already feels like heaven. Your knees turn in and your back arches, unable to control the moan that’s forced out of your throat. Thankfully, it’s not loud enough for anyone to hear or for Iwaizumi to care. He licks you again, and again, his tongue swiping up every last drop of your wetness and teasing your clit with more to come.

And more of it does come when his thumbs press into your thighs and holds onto them to keep you from moving so much. He kisses all of the wet skin and hair before flicking his tongue over your clit. You can literally feel yourself breaking into a sweat as you feel all that stimulation course through your nerves. It’s nothing like using his fingers or his cock; whatever this feeling is, you want it to last as long as possible. You grab a fistful of his hair and he growls, which somehow also sends a thousand different signals to make you moan louder.

Before long, he’s sucking on your clit and releasing one of your legs to press two fingers inside you. You don’t know how he’s able to figure out that you don’t need to work one finger in before the other. Then again, it doesn’t really matter. You’re soaking wet and already so close and your body is on the verge of short circuiting. That feeling grows when he moves his fingers and curls them up to your g-spot, pressing gently.

He sucks hard and taps your g-spot several times and that’s it. A rough tug of his hair and you keep his face right where it is when you come. You have to throw your arm around your mouth to keep yourself from releasing your max volume scream, your entire being so overcome with an orgasm via oral that nothing feels real in those first few seconds. He keeps your thigh pinned down but your lower leg still tries to vibrate its way towards him. Your other leg comes in to try and trap Iwaizumi where he is, but it fails. He’s too busy working you through your orgasm and pressing his tongue inside you to lap up the rest after he pulls his fingers out. You drop your arm and breathe heavily as you unlatch from his hair, murmuring an “oh my god” when your head is really wrapping around the fact that getting eaten out is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

Iwaizumi gives you one last kiss between your legs before coming up above you to suck his fingers then reach for the drawer of his nightstand. You hear various items being shuffled around and then a familiar rip and tear of a small package. As he works to get the condom on, he kisses your neck again and speaks in your ear, that growl coming to life in his words and make you wet all over again.

“Flip over.”

It takes some cosmic source to keep you from moaning at two words, but you obey, turning over in bed and bracing your forearms on the mattress. Iwaizumi lifts your hips high enough that he’s able to start pushing himself inside of you, still going slow but you know very well that he just wants to plunge and fuck your brains out. It’s as if he’s about to press into some deeper part inside you, to push another button that will try and make you scream.

In this position, at least you can bury your face into the sheets. He doesn’t move until you say so, and when he does he still takes his time and lets you get used to being on your knees with your ass in the air while he’s inside you. Slowly and steadily, he opens you up beautifully, thumbs pressing into your hips and driving you crazy with those little circles that set your muscles in a frenzy. You hear him curse and mutter your fake name, squeezing you harder as he starts to fuck you the same way.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ !” you cry out again as you clutch the sheets. You roll your spine up and hold on for the ride. Iwaizumi changes it up and wraps one arm so that it reaches your other hip, while the other dips and rubs your clit until that sweet spot is at its limit and you’re coming again.

You don’t notice him coming with you as you both drop. He’s trying to hold you up as he empties himself into the condom, groaning along with your cries and pressing himself into your neck. His midsection over your back is burning and your legs are ready to give out.

Like last time, you two catch your breath and Iwaizumi lowers you back down onto the bed so he can pull out and clean himself up. The bathroom across from his bed lights up with a click. You take that opportunity and turn your head to face the bathroom, spotting Iwaizumi stark naked and running water over what looks like a small towel. He’s quiet again. He probably knows you’re staring.

It’s sweet for him to come back and clean you up, too. Your legs are sore and turning feels like your body is made of lead. At least you don’t have any excess mess between your legs.

“Staying tonight?” he asks as he returns to the bathroom. You spot him putting on what you think is a clean pair of underwear.

Looking away, you groan. You really shouldn’t. You shouldn’t wake up next to someone who’s technically still a stranger, someone who’s got his own baggage to handle and someone who probably has more questions for you than you have answers you want to share. It’s possible to drive back to your dorm like this. You’ll take forever, but you can do it.

But when you try to get up, your body slams you back down to the pillows. The comfy pillows. And the soft bed. And the warm sheets.

“Only because I can’t move,” you decide. “Except maybe to the bathroom.”

“It’s all yours,” he says, coming back out and crawling back to bed.

It’s as if you ran twenty miles in two minutes when you grab your underwear and shirt off the floor and head into the bathroom. You make sure you get the clothes on before going in; the smell of smoke is a dead giveaway that this is indeed not your shirt, but it’ll do with hiding your body. You’ve even got a little bit of extra fabric to work with thanks to Iwaizumi’s shirt size.

After relieving yourself, washing up, and working through any tangles in your hair, you turn out the bathroom lights and trudge back to bed and hide under the covers. Iwaizumi’s already settled in and turning on his side to face you, a small distance away from your body. You’re not sure if it’s because of unresolved tension or because he wants to give you your space.

“Thanks again,” you say. “You know. For this.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause between you two, but you can’t find yourself wanting to sleep just yet.

At the same time, you both move closer to each other without saying a word. Iwaizumi brings his arm around you and you situate yourself so that your back is against his chest. You’re closer, but not too close that he gets a face full of your hair. It’s warm.

You fall asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how long it will take me to write the last installment in this, but expect it to tie things together and answer any questions you might have from this chapter.
> 
> Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time (sort of) for Haikyuu day!!!
> 
> I also commissioned some art by [sevenfivetwo](http://sevenfivetwo.tumblr.com) to also celebrate the conclusion to Yuki! Check it out [here](https://shoujomomo.tumblr.com/post/164423923650/well-whos-this-brooding-lil-cutie-with-a).
> 
> Hope you enjoy this last installment!
> 
> Special thanks once more to [Mari](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quillmind) for beta reading and suggesting one of the last lines of dialogue in this chapter. ;)

You have no idea how you got wrapped up in this situation, but it’s happening and it’s somehow become a strange facet of your life. Every other week or so, you pay a visit to Iwaizumi. There’s a lot less talking after those first two encounters, just simple small talk and then getting right down to business. No fuss, no bullshit, no crying over the fact that you two share some common ground about being alone and not alone all at once. Sometimes you stay over for the night, sometimes you don’t. If he gets extra rough with you (which you’ve learned that you like….a lot), you don’t have much of a choice. If you only show up for some stress relief from exams or drama, you’re able to head back to campus looking like you just got back from a trip to the grocery store.

This goes on well into the next semester, when the weather gets cooler and you’re fine with huddling up in Iwaizumi’s arms to shield you from the cold and all the negative thoughts that come and go as they please. Nothing personal or deep has been said for a while, which you intend to keep that way. You kind of like the friends-with-benefits deal. Except you’re not really sure if you consider Iwaizumi a friend. You suppose so, since you can tolerate all the movies he watches and some of the stupid jokes he cracks when you see him at work in the mini mart. Hopefully, he’s into some of the jokes you throw back at him, too. Otherwise, that fake laugh is pretty award-worthy.

It’s all surreal to you and of course you aren’t going to address all those underlying conflicting feelings until something dramatic will happen that will force them out of you.

Tonight’s not the night to do such a thing. With another exam successfully down, you’re ready to celebrate before you go home for the holidays, something you’re definitely not looking forward to. You’re sure you’ll get a flurry of questions about your studies and your personal life and why it looks like you may have gained weight. Before you take on that mess, you’re going to go out for once in your life with your friends. To a bar. Late at night. Per their pleads and cries for them for you to be a little more social and out of your dorm.

This better be good.

So far, it’s not terrible. The drink in your hand is kind of fruity and not so ridiculously strong that you want to spit it out. You’re considerably covered up in dark colors so you’re not so concerned about certain body parts sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s cold outside, anyway. The bar isn’t grossly hot and sweaty despite its small space. Most of the heat is coming from the dance floor and a tiny stage consisting of some band with mediocre lyrics about love. After copious amounts of cajoling, you stand your ground and keep yourself reserved to the table where you stand and enjoy your drink while you watch everyone else dance stupidly to a song with little rhythm. It’s a lot more fun watching the wreck instead of being a part of it. Maybe you just need another drink or two before you stop caring.

The crowd is a weird mix of college students. Some faces are familiar, others you’ve never seen before but you’re sure they attend your university, and some you have no idea if they’re even from around here. A few are kind of cute. If you had some more confidence, you’d go up and talk to them. But then you have all those thoughts about seeing Iwaizumi and how you might not see him anymore if talking to that mystery person leads to a relationship. How does that shit even work? Do you give him a two weeks notice or some letter of resignation? Or just not tell him at all? You don’t know. All the more reason for you to get to work on your second drink.

Someone stands at your table as you take a sip. You’re not sure who has the audacity to try and come join you, but when you look up, you’re not even remotely surprised anymore. You two don’t say anything for the first few minutes, then decide via some silent agreement that you two can live a little and talk extensively again. He looks good in a hoodie, sleeves pushed up some so you can still enjoy the artwork of those fearing Godzilla and some other designs you have yet to observe at full capacity.

“I thought you weren’t the going out type of person,” Iwaizumi says loudly over the music as he puts his beer down and takes the cigarette out of his mouth. It’s different to hear him with his voice raised, but then again you’ve heard him groan like an animal when he’s balls deep inside of you. 

“I wanted to do something different,” you reply, taking another sip of your drink. “Are you here alone?”

He shakes his head and motions to a group in the corner of the bar. Most of them are tall, muscular people similar to Iwaizumi’s build. “Came with my classmates. Just a few more months and we’ll be done with the program.”

“Congratulations. Will you get to put out fires after that?”

“Nah. Still need to apply for a job and do training there.”

You nod, not asking anything more that’ll dive deeper and somehow get too deep that you won’t be able to turn back. Iwaizumi understands that much and continues to smoke and drink while you continue doing more of the latter. The band finishes playing and the bar goes back to an Internet radio station tuned to classic rock. Your friends are stuck in the crowd, hung up on some of the new people they’ve met and dancing about trying not to spill their drinks. You’re kind of glad about that, since you don’t want them asking a bunch of questions about the handsome gentleman standing with you and enjoying the quiet together.

What catches you off-guard, though, are the people who know Iwaizumi instead of you. A girl comes up to the table with a bright smile and a form-fitting dress that shows off her, well, conventionally attractive body. You curl in on yourself and look away as she puts down her barely-touched drink with a little toothpick umbrella and leans forward to get herself at just right angle to get his attention. He’s unmoved.

“Hajime!” she greets, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard of his first name. “It’s been  _ so _ long. How’ve you been?”

He blows some smoke away from the two of you. The only change in his expression is the half-smile he looks like he’s forcing to stick on his face. “I’m good. And yourself?”

“Great, great,” she giggles. What’s so funny? “Hey...um, are you busy tonight?”

He pauses, putting down his cigarette before he’s able to inhale some more. You know where this is going. If there weren’t people passing through behind you and more people almost blocking the entryway, you’d take your leave and text your friends later that you were feeling sick. You’re not feeling sick at all, but you’re about to be if you’re going to witness Iwaizumi set up something with this girl. It sickens you more knowing that you actually care about this.

“Yeah,” he answers, then looks briefly at you. You frown. “I am.”

“Wait, really?” she says, then looks at you up and down. “Sorry, can you give us some privacy?”

Talking openly in a bar isn’t exactly private, but you’re not going to argue. You’re ready to turn from the table when Iwaizumi grabs your shoulder.

“No, you can stay here,” he says. Turning back to the stranger, he tells her, “I’m not interested.”

She scoffs. “Seriously? What’s gotten into you? Are you totally into dick now or something?”

He doesn’t answer, but his grip tightens a bit on your shoulder and you have to remove yourself from him before he crushes it. You’d be mad too if someone poked at your sexuality like that.

Then she looks at you and you can feel your stomach drop and the alcohol hit you in all the wrong places. Alternating glances between you and him, she settles on him and goes on, “ _ That’s _ what you’re into now?”

“Yuki is a person,” Iwaizumi says and takes a very intimidating step forward. “And who I’m into is none of your business.”

She rolls her eyes, defeated by her own game. “Whatever. Have fun fucking  _ that _ .”

There’s a pause and you think she’s about to leave with her tail between her legs, but instead she tips the drink she brought over, spilling it all over your clothes. You step back and interject a  _ what the fuck _ but you run into someone else behind you, who drunkenly grunts a  _ watch it _ before knocking you back into the table. Iwaizumi tries to save you, but he’s a second too late and before you know it, you and the table are making friends with sticky floorboards and broken glass. Everyone is staring. Your back and your head hurt.

“Shit,” she laughs, “it’s like those stupid action movies with those gross monsters you love. Perfect match!”

“Fuck off,” Iwaizumi growls, and that’s the last thing you hear before scrambling to your feet and bolting through the bar, getting to the bathroom as quickly as you can.

 

The single bathroom smells faintly of vomit combined with air freshener and other bodily fluids, but at least you’re safe here. You lock the door and grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, dabbing away at the vodka and fruit juice and whatever the fuck was in that drink. Miraculously, the only glass you have to worry about are the bits and pieces you shake off in your hair. Your head throbs when you do that, but that’s the least of your worries. Of course your night was going to be ruined. It’s been written in stone for you to have the worst luck being in public with a bunch of drunk people, not to mention the person you’ve been fucking for the last part of this year. And obviously all the conflict had to stem from him, too. You knew that was a bad idea from the start. You should have listened to your conscience. And your mom, in an indirect, bitter way.

You just had to be selfish and take matters into your own hands for once in your life.

Someone bangs on the door and you ignore it. Two seconds later, it happens again.

“Occupied!” you shout towards it.

“Yuki, it’s me,” Iwaizumi says through the door. “Are you okay?”

You groan loudly as you dunk the wet paper towels into the trash. “Does it look like I’m okay?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see you.”

You could hide in a hole and die right about now but Iwaizumi’s the only person who could keep you from doing that thanks to a dumb remark. “Iwaizumi, please.”

“Come on. I’ll take you home.”

You think about that offer, then find that it’s the best out of the other options. You don’t want your friends worrying and finding out about all the trouble you’ve been into, and you don’t want to walk to the dorms alone tonight when it’s this late and you’re sore from your fall. After washing your hands and dabbing away at your clothes one more time, you open up the door and find Iwaizumi waiting right there in front of you. He gives you a look you’ve only seen a few other times before, back when you two first started seeing each other and he was so afraid that he hurt you.

This time around, though, the look hits harder. Like he’s the one who called you a “what” and got you to fall to the floor for everyone to see. Like it’s all his fault. Maybe it is in some ways, but you don’t want to blame him for all of this.

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but you step forward and hug him tightly, burying your face into his hoodie that smells of his body wash and cigarette smoke. It’s only natural that those nasty words start to get to you and more pain just settles in your skin, forcing you to start tearing up when you really, really don’t want to. Not in public.

Iwaizumi gets the hint and he grips you tightly, whisking you away like a breeze pushing against the current to take you outside and away from the bar.

 

The two of you are dead silent as you walk through the streets and back to your dorm, which is a change since you always find yourself at his place instead of yours. Your arm is hooked around his, since your layers aren’t enough to keep you warm. You really should have planned ahead for the temperature drop at night. No amount of alcohol could warm you up to the cold.

Iwaizumi nudges you out of your hold and you think he’s over you clinging to him like velcro. You can understand that after sleeping with him for this long and wanting to have him hold you to fill very void of despair that pierces your heart until you fall asleep. Your arms are folded across your chest and you suddenly feel knit fabric being pressed to your forehead.

“You must be freezing,” Iwaizumi says as he gets his beanie over your head, then pulls his hood over his own. “Don’t worry. I don’t have lice or anything.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly. Your head definitely feels warmer, and less throbby than when you were lying on the floor. You still keep your arms at your chest, but when Iwaizumi reaches for you, you don’t hesitate to hold onto him again. “You’re cold, too.”

“No I’m not,” he denies. “I just like holding you.”

He shows that more than he tells it, but it still makes you blush. “In the cold?”

“Yes.”

You crack a smile and turn a corner at the end of the block. “Whatever you say.”

Getting back to campus doesn’t take too long after that. Iwaizumi looks around at the big buildings and the statues of your school mascot, among some other avant garde projects on display in the middle of grassy areas. You don’t know much about his studies besides that he’s in community college studying to be a fireman. Something you’ve always wondered is if he’s ever wanted to go to a bigger university. 

That doesn’t get addressed tonight. Instead, he stops at the front doors of your dorm building, turning so that he can face you. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

Reliving the moment in your head makes you want to cry again but you hold it in. “It wasn’t your fault. Some people are just mean.”

He nods. Can’t really argue with that when you two have discussed it before.

“You’re not mean,” you continue unexpectedly. “Thanks for taking me back. Did you, uh, want to stay with me for a little bit? It’s really cold out and you look like you’re going to freeze over.”

Iwaizumi hesitates like he should hesitate coming over to your place for the first time since meeting him, but he nods with confidence. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

You lead him inside and head into the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor. As a third-year, you’re able to have a room to yourself. It’s more space for you to move about and you don’t have a roommate who will try and talk about themselves to make you feel better when you’re stressed. That’s one nice bit. It’s not like you’ve ever brought a guy up here, though, to enjoy the extra space. But, you can appreciate some of the personality to make the room less depressing—a mini fridge, posters of your favorite movies and your favorite TV shows, some fairy lights above your desk and your bed, a bookshelf with some of your old textbooks and novels you could get lost in forever. Iwaizumi immediately takes interest in the movie posters, like you expected. As he takes a look around, you take off his beanie and set it on your desk before taking off your jacket and sweater, careful not to have the fabric lift off your shirt and expose your skin. You’ve got a small pile of clothes in one corner of the room, so you set your clothes there and fall into your bed as you look over at Iwaizumi, now looking at you.

“We can’t have alcohol on campus, so I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

He shrugs and takes a few steps towards your bed. “I’ve had enough to drink at the bar anyway. Can I join you?”

You huff, as if he hasn’t been seeing you naked (in the dark) for the last several months. “Of course.”

Iwaizumi empties his hoodie first, setting aside his phone, almost-empty cigarette carton, and his lighter on your desk that houses a small lamp that gives the room a muted orange glow. You still don’t know what’s engraved on it. His hoodie comes off next, and in this instance, you’re thankful for hoodies that stick to clothes underneath. You could sleep with Iwaizumi a million times and you still won’t get tired of staring at him. He knows that.

After draping his hoodie over your desk chair and adjusting his shirt, a plain white cotton tee that definitely cannot fight off the cold, he climbs into bed with you, putting his arm over your waist just how you like it after you pull up your fuzzy blanket to cover yourselves. You curl up to him instinctively, getting your warmth this way instead of taking in the heat from the vent above your bed. 

“Sleepy?” he asks you.

“Not really,” you answer. “Just...tired.”

“Last time I checked, that means the same thing.”

“You know what I mean.”

At least, he should know what you mean. From what you’ve picked up in the time you’ve been seeing him, he’s pretty good at deducing your mood without you having to say a single word. Tonight’s decency-turned-disaster should be indicative of that, but maybe he’s asking you for a different reason. Something’s been stirring between you two and you’ve been refusing to address it for the longest time. It’s always the small details that stick to your brain because when the hell has anyone else been this nice to you and at the same time makes you scream and nearly wake the neighbors? You can’t forget the first time ( _ your _ first time) he made you feel at ease, and then all the other times he made you feel more than just a dirty fuck every once in a while. Checking in to ask if you’re okay, if you’re warm enough, how much toast you want for breakfast. If he were a hotel service, he’d be rated five stars every time.

Time passes in the warm silence, and when it does you bring yourself to ask Iwaizumi, “Were you really planning on taking me home even if that girl didn’t spill her drink on me?”

He sighs, grunting as if he didn’t want to hear about the girl again tonight. “If you were okay with it. I probably would have asked you anyway if she wasn’t around.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Huh. In need of something celebratory since you’re getting close to being done with school?”

“There’s that,” he shrugs, “but I really just wanted to be with you.”

That makes your stomach turn. So maybe he knows about the thing between you two, as well. You’re pretty nice to him, too, if you think back to all the time you’ve spent with him. You don’t judge his sexuality or his broad taste in movies or how he can likely smoke a pack of cigarettes in a matter of a few hours. You also don’t see him as a free fuck, either. But that’s just you being a decent person. 

Another breath and you cling to the middle of his shirt, tugging gently. “Couldn’t you have asked anyone else in your contacts? Or is it because I’m the first person you saw at the bar?”

He hesitates before answering, and the longer he waits the more your stomach wants to stop functioning. His eyes go soft and he brings his hand up to brush his fingertips over your cheek as he speaks, “The only person I want to keep seeing is you.”

Wait. Wait a moment. That means something. That means a lot of things. He wants to be...exclusive. He doesn’t want to keep being a physical form of stress relief and secret shame for other people. Your eyes widen and you let go of his shirt, unable to breathe for a millisecond like he just went and pierced your heart.

“Iwaizumi,” you say. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t, either,” he admits. “But I want to try. With you.”

You shake your head, disbelief and awe running through your veins but you don’t want to move away from him. Of all the things that could have happened after seeing him once, here is now in bed trying to convince you that he wants to date you. Maybe this is a dream, the fucked up kind where you wake up right when things pick up and you’re thrown back to living your life as the one person nobody wants. 

“Why me?”

“Because you’re nice.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” you say, urged to sit up and look down at him. He sits up, too. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you cried the first time you came over.”

“That doesn’t count!” You turn to him, growing desperate for a good, legitimate reason as to why he wants to suddenly change things. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly the most dateable person out there.”

He frowns. “How so?”

“I mean,” your words get lost in your head going to your tongue as you motion towards your body, “look at me! I can’t even sleep with you with the lights on.”

He’s unmoved. “I don’t see a problem with your body.”

“You’re lying to me,” you respond immediately, eyes narrowing.

“Why would I lie to you?”

“Because that’s what everyone else does,” you say with more bite to your words as you try to hold back tears. “They’re only saying that to be nice wherein fact they’d never be with someone who looks like me.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“It doesn’t matter! Everyone’s fucked me over growing up.” You take a breath and wipe away the tears welling up and just barely starting to spill down your eyes, “They can say it a hundred times over and mean it but I still can’t bring myself to believe it.”

Iwaizumi does his trademark silence as you cry. Whatever he’s trying to come up with to say to you, it probably won’t work. As thankful as you are of his presence since the summer, he doesn’t look like the type to easily solve this problem. Nobody can really do that for you at this point.

“What do you want to hear from someone who wants to date you, then?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know. Something that’ll convince me that they aren’t a tool?”

“What if I told you that I’ve stopped sleeping with everyone else but you?”

“I’d think you’re lying.”

“Why do you think that girl came up to me at the bar?”

Good point, but not entirely convincing. You don’t have a counterpoint right away in your head as you wipe your tears, so Iwaizumi adds, “Have you been on that app these last few months?”

Now that you think about it, it’s been a while since you’ve just sat down and scrolled through all your social media. In the midst of studying and getting all your projects done, you didn’t have a whole lot of time to look at anonymous messages about missed connections and people wanting to hook up. It was getting pretty repetitive, anyway. You shake your head. “I guess you’re going to tell me that you haven’t been posting an ad for any new or returning takers?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You sigh. He sounds truthful enough. In the time you’ve known him, it’s not like any red flags came up and slapped you in the face. Jumping into a relationship is scary. Jumping into a relationship with someone you’ve only been seeing for sex is scarier. You can’t deny that things have been a smidge better since meeting Iwaizumi, but things are going to be wildly different if you finally get to know more about him. Why he wants to be a fireman, how he got into all those movies and why he thinks Sapporo beer is gross. You want to know all those things, but does he really want to know more about you?

“You’re sure about this?” you ask him, blinking away the last of your tears and facing him. “You’re absolutely, positively sure you want to date me?”

He takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. You gaze into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or ill intent. Nothing. All you see are gorgeous brown eyes looking straight back at you, sweet and dazed like he’s so lost in your confusion. It’s cute and endearing and it’s making you feel a whole bunch of other things besides hesitation. But ultimately, he nods.

You take a breath and move back closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist before he leans back slightly on the headboard of your bed. Resting your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes and let it sink in that yes, you want to do this too, you want to feel what it’s like to try and navigate yourself through a...relationship. Of sorts. If you can call it that.

“Thanks, by the way,” you say quietly, “for taking me home.”

He rubs your back and kisses the top of your head. “I told you. I would have asked anyway if nobody interrupted us.”

“Right.” He got you there. You still can’t find yourself being able to rest knowing what you know now and all that you’ve been through. Things still don’t make sense. A beat passes and you say his name again, “Do you still think relationships are bullshit?”

The question doesn’t come as a surprise to him, at least you don’t think so. You wait as patiently as you can for his answer, pushing down all the doubts and pains in your belly that won’t go away unless he puts you in some more ease.

“Not all of them.”

He goes eerily quiet then, tapping his head on the headboard as if it took all the energy for him to answer you. You open your eyes and look up at him, brushing your hand over his side like what he’d do for you. After all this time talking about yourself, you remember with some guilt that he has his own set of issues, as well. “Who...what happened?”

“A lot of things,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve got a list.”

His frown grows deeper and he closes his eyes like he’s trying to fight back his own tears. It’s a step in the right direction if you two are already sort of open with each other, right? You’ve made your point about dating; it’s time for you to hear his.

“Bad breakup?” you guess.

He half-smirks and looks down at you. “Heh. That and then some.”

“Bad breakup...and then they robbed you?” you amend.

He laughs this time, a sound that you didn’t expect to hear but enjoy anyway. “Robbed me of years of my life, I guess. Could’ve saved me a year of fucking up if he just said something right away.”

“Ouch. Were you that unhappy?”

“No,” he says as he shakes his head. “The opposite. We were friends since childhood. And then...he just upped and left for better things. I think he’s doing pretty well for himself now. Haven’t talked to him since.”

You don’t know how long Iwaizumi’s been feeling this way, but this is definitely a huge piece of the puzzle uncovered. “Did you love him?”

He laughs again. “Ruined the fucking word for me.”

“Damn. And that’s why you’re...doing what you’ve been doing for god knows how long.”

“It’s like bad medication.”

“That’s poetic.”

“Shut up.”

You groan and poke his jaw, trying to poke through the mood and the nervous laughter you two share. “Hey. At least you know what it’s like to be in love. I’ve been brought up believing that that would be impossible for me.”

“People are fucked up like that.”

“It’s like you said. People are mean.”

“You’re not mean.”

“Neither are you.”

It goes quiet after that. You take that time to let all the new information sink in and attempt to understand what it was like for Iwaizumi to suddenly lose someone he’s loved for what was probably a very long time. It’s not like the movies and the books where he goes on some journey to find himself and return as a new man. Or is he? He’s just not the invigorated and refreshed person like all those main characters. This is real. And it’s a lot less glamorous. At least he’s handsome.

“Yuki,” he murmurs, “are you okay with this?”

You know he doesn’t mean the way you two are cuddled up in your bed. “I...yeah. I think I am. I’ll try.”

“Me too.”

Trying is the best you two can do together. It’ll be nice to have someone strong help you carry all your emotional baggage. You can do the same for him. Think of it as returning the favor for making you feel so good and a little less sad. 

Feeling a little numb from being in the same position for so long, you carefully shift under the blanket so that you can sit on his lap. It took a few nights of convincing that you won’t break his legs, but now it’s one of your favorite ways for him to hold you. He puts his arms around you without question, tucking his hands under your shirt so you can feel the warm of his palms at the small of your back. The sensation draws you back to all those nights when you had the urge to kiss him properly. His lips on your neck and literally everywhere else drives you crazy, but there’s one part of you he hasn’t kissed yet.

“Now that we’re dating,” you say, “or, you know, trying to date, does that mean I can kiss you?”

“Dunno,” he answers. “You made the rules when we first met. I’m ready when you are.”

The nice thing about this is that there aren’t any rules now. Even if there were, you two can break them.You lift your head up and face him, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. You’re a little (a lot) out of practice with kissing; the last time you kissed someone, you were dared to do so at a party in which you were invited to out of pity so you wouldn’t be left out. Not fun.

Iwaizumi gets the hint, though, like he always does. He takes one hand out of your shirt and takest the lightest hold of the back of your neck, moving when you do as you close the distance.

He tastes of cigarettes and alcohol. It’s nothing unpleasant. Nothing unexpected, either. His lips are softer than they look and you can’t help but feel every muscle in your body tense up when you let the moment burn into your brain.You press closer to him, moving as slowly as you allow yourself to be, only pulling away when you think it’s appropriate but you really could just do that with him all night.

All the emotions from tonight have caught up with you, so you almost don’t notice it when you mumble his name against his lips, “Hajime.”

His breath catches and he captures your lips in his again, pressing a touch harder on your neck while you keep your palms pressed to his shoulders. More warmth starts to build up when his tongue swipes over your lips. “Yuki,” he says in response to his first name.

No more rules. You pull back abruptly and he stares at you, looking ready to ask if he did something wrong. Before he can, you tell him your name.

Your real name.

His eyes widen. “What?”

You say it again. “That’s my real name. I never wanted to tell you, but it’s different now. I want you to know it.”

He murmurs your name once, then again, a little louder so you can hear. The way he says it makes you react much more strongly than you anticipate. You go in for another kiss. This time, he kisses back harder and you let his tongue slip between your lips, sliding against your own as you cling to his shirt and inhale sharply through your nose. There’s something about this that’s so much different than all the times you two have slept together. It’s not just the kissing.  But you supposed that’s expected.

It’s tricky getting your clothes off in this position without having to completely come off his lap, but the two of you manage. Iwaizumi yanks his jeans off and fishes for a condom in his wallet as you remove your own pants, keeping your shirt on but removing your bra to relieve all that pressure. The two of you immediately go back to kissing, his cock in his underwear waking up between your legs when you press and move forward in his lap. Your moans are soft as they always are when you two get warmed up, only now they get to be barely audible with Iwaizumi’s lips attached to yours.

There’s more maneuvering involved to tuck your underwear off to the side. The same goes for Iwaizumi, who’s getting his cock free and trying to get his hand between your legs at the same time. You do the work and stroke him in a tight fist, his lips falling to your neck and finding that one little spot that lights a fire in you. One of his fingers teases your wetness then presses inside to tap your g-spot.

Your mouth falls open and you say his name again. “ _ Hajime _ .”

He says your name in response and  _ god _ it sounds even better this time around. Another finger joins the first and your hand falters on his cock, already dripping in precome and twitching in your palm.

“I need it,” you say. “Please. Inside me, Hajime.”

He nips your neck and pulls back to grab the condom next to you. It takes rip and a crinkle and in the blink of an eye, you raise yourself on your knees, tuck your underwear to the side, and guide yourself down so that you’re seated comfortably on his cock.

You hide your moans again by kissing him, letting the slight discomfort of the stretch subside before moving up and down slowly like the night will never end. Iwaizumi holds onto your hips loosely, looking up at you as you move at your own leisure. You can’t help but tip your head down and hold his cheeks, framing his face so you can kiss him and he can kiss you back and you can say each other’s names like they’re a spell to wish away all of the terrible things that screwed with your lives.

Iwaizumi takes more control as your body heats up even more and drives you closer to coming. He tightens his grip on your hips and moves you at his own will, bracing his feet on your bed to thrust up faster and move just right to have you moaning louder.

Your hand drops to your clit and in seconds, you’re there. You rub yourself through your orgasm and cry out your curses as you do so, clenching tightly around him while your other hand stretches his shirt. Pressing your forehead against his, you murmur his name once more, to the point that you start to tear up again from the weight of everything between you two.

Iwaizumi is too busy finding his own release, but when he does, he groans roughly, the two of you now completely still as he kisses you and your cheeks and the tears that roll down. He’s saying your name, too, but when he does a few more times, there’s a shift in his tone.

You blink away your tears to find that he’s crying, too.

You don’t know how long it takes for you two to finally get off each other and cleaning up half-heartedly in favor of sleeping sooner. Tears are wiped dry and the light gets turned off and Iwaizumi resists having a cigarette to calm down and you two kiss each other until you’re both on the brink of drifting off in each other’s arms, so close and huddled under a warm blanket. Before you do, however, it’s Iwaizumi who breaks the silence with something so close to it.

“How about we don’t call this a relationship. Or any shit like that.”

You grunt, wanting more to fall asleep than to talk. “Mm. Okay. What do we call this then?”

“Let’s just call it...us.”

_ Us. _ You like it. You like it a lot.

Snow falls lazily outside your dorm, fogging up your window while the two of you sleep in the comfort of a connection created from shared loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote!
> 
> Thanks again for all the support. I greatly appreciate everyone who takes the time to leave a little like or all caps messages detailing how much Iwaizumi is the best, haha. You guys really, really make it worth it!!
> 
> Author's note below are links to my Tumblr and Twitter. Feel free to follow and send a message there, if you like! :D

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
> I might, MIGHT do more than one chapter of this. I still have a wave of commissions to write and some other projects to work on, so this piece was kind of my break from all of the stuff on my to-do list. Which doesn't consist of people, unfortunately :(
> 
> (that statement doesn't apply anymore now that I've updated but I'm proud of my use of a gif in an author's note) 
> 
> Either way, thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and tattoo money are greatly appreciated. <3
> 
> [Tumblr ](http://shoujomomo.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter](http://twitter.com/iwaizumiii)


End file.
